


Mortal

by betweenthepages



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship/Love, Interrogation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 16:12:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1191471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betweenthepages/pseuds/betweenthepages
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During interrogation, Iain Quinn taunts May with Coulson's mortality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mortal

**Author's Note:**

> Contains mild descriptions of physical violence during interrogation.
> 
> Based loosely on the promo for 1x14 here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S-wf2Z1_FKY
> 
> [Spoilers from the promo] It's scary watching one of your favourite characters seemingly snap, so here's some speculation/fic to make it somewhat better?

"Well, if it isn't the mighty Cavalry." Ian Quinn’s words are mocking. “I was wondering when Coulson would send in the big guns.”

May circles the table slowly, contemplating what approach to take. 

It would be easier if she wasn’t so damn tired. Someone had to hold the Bus together last night. No one else had been in anywhere near good enough shape to.

Phil’s words echo in her head. “Whatever it takes, May.” This at least she can do for him, likely standing guard outside the room where Skye is in surgery. She’s no Romanoff, and it’s been a while since she’s had to extract information rather than people, but if she thinks of it as a form of rescue, it helps.

She’s not even sure whether Coulson knows what he wants out of Quinn, other than to watch him suffer.

“Where is the Clairvoyant?” she snarls, leaning in dangerously close to him, satisfaction rising at the involuntary shudder that runs through his body.

“Somewhere where they can keep a close eye on you, Agent May. You’re a rather extraordinary human being, you know. Too bad you’re going to be too late. That nickname is ironic, don’t you think, given how you have failed?”

She lets the first punch fly. “Where. Is. He?” If she uses a little bit more force than necessary, she tells herself it’s just part of the act. He couldn’t possibly know about Bahrain. 

Quinn smirks - he was enjoying this, the bastard. “What fun would that be if I just told you, Melinda? Have some patience. In due time he will come for you. You’ve proven yourself rather… resilient.”

Her fingers tighten their grip on the table. “Answer the question, Quinn.” The bile rises in her throat, anger simmering for real. 

“Patience, Agent May.” His chin lifts in challenge. “You know, I’m surprised Coulson would send you in here. The Clairvoyant tells me you have a… connection, shall we say. It must have been quite hard on you when he died. The Cavalry, unable even to save her own partner.” His voice oozes mock pity.

She’d been doing fine in administration, well, even. She curses Phil for not leaving well enough alone, for putting her in a situation where she cared again, where she was responsible for a team of people again. Barely six months had gone by and Phil had almost gotten himself killed numerous times, Simmons had flung herself off an airplane, Ward had gotten shot, Fitz sent on a suicide mission, and Skye, the girl she’d never thought she would grow attached to, shot multiple times. It was never supposed to be a combat mission until it was.

Her careful control begins to give. What she wouldn’t give for her cockpit and blue skies right about now. 

“But do not be afraid, dear Cavalry. When the time comes - and it will come - for Phil Coulson to die for good, the Clairvoyant will grant you a seat front and center in the audience. You and he will get to watch as Ward dies, then Simmons, then Fitz.”

The anger comes to a boil, spreading through her limbs like fire.

“Each of them in the way they fear most. A well for Agent Ward, perhaps, an airplane for Agent Simmons. Watching her die should be punishment enough for Agent Fitz, I should think. Then you’re going to watch as Coulson dies slowly for his precious Skye, watch him beg for her life over his own. It will be in vain, of course.” 

God dammit. She wasn’t supposed to care.

“Your job, after all, is to be the last one standing. And you will be. The solitude you’ve longed for at last, is it not?”

She tells herself it’s just part of the job, reaches out, slams his head into the table. 

“Ah, but you’ve come to care for them.” He raises his head, his smile bloody and vicious. “You would make an excellent weapon, Agent May. Perhaps we shall have you be the one that kills him.”

The dam inside her breaks, and she feels the anger surging inside her, red and warm and all too familiar. His head meets the table with a satisfying crack this time, his eyes dazed as she yells. “Feels good, huh?” He doesn’t reply, and this infuriates her more, the punches flying.

Thwack.

Skye, lying open on the surgery table, shot at close range.

Thwack.

Phil, screaming and begging to die.

Thwack.

The helicopter exploding in front of her eyes, sure she’d lost him yet again.

Thwack. 

The radio silence from Quinn’s compound, her heart thumping when she couldn’t reach Phil.

She registers the burn in her shoulder, the trickle of blood mirroring the ones on Quinn’s face, but she’s too far gone now, seeing red - thwack, thwack, thwack. 

Phil, almost falling out of the Bus. Phil, telling the fireman the other side was beautiful. Phil, bleeding out in the Helicarrier, pierced through the heart by an Asgardian god. 

Phil, in all the times she’d been too late.

Phil, dying alone.

Quinn doesn’t speak but he still smirks up at her, the bastard, his eyes taunting. “Front row seats,” he chokes out, and it becomes blindingly clear that she knows of hundreds of ways to kill him right here, make him feel what it must be like to die alone in the enemy’s hand, devoid of anyone to hold him, to try and save him.

But the door opens and Simmons comes flying in, plunging a syringe into Iain Quinn’s neck, looking up at her with a mix of horror and sympathy. Ward, right behind her, reaches for Melinda, holding her back. His lips brush against her temple briefly, and she freezes.

Jemma’s shaking, but she stands her ground. “Dendrotoxin,” she says. “He’ll be out for about an hour.” She seems hesitant, but she steps towards Melinda, lays a hand on her arm. The fear in her eyes doesn’t fade, though, and the anger in Melinda is suddenly replaced by a wave of sorrow.

Quinn slumps on the table, out cold.

Inside, she feels something begin to crack. 

Phil appears at the door, his face haggard and drawn, paling even more at the look in her eyes.

"I've got her," he says, his voice rising with just a touch of hysteria as he takes her from Ward's arms. “Ward, I’ve got her," he repeats more firmly, pulling her towards him.

Ward steps back, seemingly weighing the futility of protest. His mouth closes and he nods, the resignation clear in his eyes. Simmons lays a trembling hand on his arm. Not unkindly, Phil dismisses them both with a wave of his hand.

“May, I —“ He moves to pull her closer, but she stands her ground.

She finds her voice again. “Don’t.” He may pretend to have forgotten how she’d almost broken his arm after she’d woken up in Bahrain, but she certainly hasn’t forgotten. She attempts, somewhat futilely, to pull herself together. “Coulson, whatever this is, it’s personal to the Clairvoyant.”

“Melinda.” The word is a plea. “I never should have put you in that situation.” She’s not sure if he means Bahrain, or the Bus, or Quinn; she’s not sure he himself knows. 

He slumps against the wall, sliding to the floor. “Melinda,” he repeats, holding out his hand for her to join him. He’s not looking for his second-in-command right now. He’s looking for his friend. Inexplicably, the thought makes tears well up in her eyes.

She slides down beside him, close enough that she can feel the grief radiating like fire. She wants to tell him Skye will be okay, but she’s never made promises she can’t keep.

“You died,” she says instead, the words catching in her throat. “I should have been there.”

He glances over at her, weighing the words that come out next. “You know what I was thinking, bleeding out on the Helicarrier? I thought that of all people, you would understand. I was dying and the thought of you gave me comfort. You were there, Melinda, don’t ever doubt it.”

He reaches over, brushes a tear off her cheek, and just like that all their years of history, all the might-have-beens come simmering to the surface, threatening to break free. 

Not here, she thinks. Not now. 

He sees the struggle in her eyes and makes the decision for her, pulling her into his lap as she began to sob, as his own tears began to fall. They made an odd pair, with Skye’s blood still encrusted on his suit, Quinn's blood fresh on hers. 

It was in moments like these that he remembered how startlingly small she was, how the frame that kicked in doors and took down whole crews of hostiles was barely five-foot tall, just fitting into his lap, head tucked into the crook of his neck. She can feel the blood pulsing through his neck and the slow deep breaths he takes, and struggles to match them, breath still hitching in her throat.

“Feel your feelings, Melinda,” he murmurs, holding her tight as he absorbed her sorrow and she his grief. He drops a kiss on the top of her head, burying his nose in her hair. Something inside her clicks.

This is how it ends, she realizes, not with them burying Skye, or Ward, or Fitzsimmons; not with the end of the Clairvoyant’s game; and certainly not with the might-have and could-have beens lurking under the surface as he dies and she watches helplessly.

This is how it ends, she thinks, with the two of them side-by-side, clinging to each other for dear life.

This is how it ends, she knows, as for the first time she looks at him and sees what could still be.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by:  
> = a gifset on Tumblr: Melinda May + Coulson's Mortality here: http://fructoselollipop.tumblr.com/post/76376609542/melinda-may-coulsons-mortality  
> \- a response to Coulson/May by open-pandoras-box.tumblr.com, who wrote "this is how it ends" about them. It seemed beautifully apt.


End file.
